


Worth

by angerwasallihad



Series: Behind the Curtain [7]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: DOWN THE DRAIN, Episode Tag, Gen, Mother!ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 06:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angerwasallihad/pseuds/angerwasallihad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'But of course he did. And she could not talk him out of it, she knew. Sharon knew what it was not to see your own value or influence in someone else. She knew what it was to be hurt so many times that you begin to believe you have no value. But she also knew what it was to be on the other side of all of that, and wondered if he would get there soon too.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

She'd tried to pawn her wedding rings once.

 

It had been an act of pure desperation, of course, during those dark days when the kids had been going through clothes faster than Sharon could find the money for new ones, and still staggering under the weight of Jack's debts. And she'd still been so angry.

 

With him, yes. But mostly angry with herself.

 

At the very end of her rope, she'd gone to someone she knew and trusted to have the rings looked at, hoping at the very least it might stem the tide for a little while.

 

When the broker looked up at her, almost pityingly, and told her how little they were actually worth, she hadn't flinched. She'd barely even been surprised. She was not worth much, these days.

 

Sharon had been at the point of taking the money, hoping to do with it what she could, when she stopped, turning back home clutching the nearly-worthless rings. Worth is measured in more than gold, she'd thought determinedly. And back then, she'd treasured them, used them to her advantage, valued them.

 

Standing now in the foyer, still staring at the door moments after it had slammed behind him, she rubbed her forehead absently, rocking nervously on her feet as she held back tears. Her other hand found a pocket in her jacket, fidgeting there.

 

She used to keep one of those rings in that pocket. In the early years after the separation she'd slip it on at the proper times. But that was not really why she kept it there. She'd finger it lightly, a reminder of both wealth and worth beyond gold when she felt untethered or meaningless, even when its value to her had all but faded away.

 

More recently, Sharon had traded the ring in for something with real and present value to her.

 

Rusty Beck.

 

Her other children had value to her, of course. There was absolutely no denying that. But the fact that he was always there, a clear and present reminder of how lucky she was, the wealth and worth that she had in her life.

 

But he didn't see it.

 

In the early days, she'd been so careful not to get too invested. To respect his personal space, not to get attached. She had failed miserably, of course. And now she'd traded in that fidgeting in her pocket for a soft hand on his shoulder as he passed by; brushing his hair out of his face unnecessarily; an affectionate, light pat on the cheek even, these days. Other times all she could get out of him was a text or a glance across a room. She would take them all, these little reminders of the treasures in her life.

 

And it broke her heart a little that he didn't understand his value.

 

Taking a few more moments before heading back into the office and her murder, Sharon wandered down the hall slowly.

 

She knew why it was so difficult for him to understand, of course. It was the elephant in the room, the thing they never talked about. That his character was defined by his monetary value. Even before all that, with his mother and The System and all the rest; his value was in what use he could be to others, not in who he was.

 

Stopping in front of his door, she pushed it slowly open, peeking inside just for a moment.

 

_"It's all very dry and formal and legalistic, I know, but—what all those forms actually say, under the fine print is…that I'm really lucky to have you in my life."_

 

_She'd tried to keep her general outward excitement about 'this adoption thing,' as he called it, at a moderate level. If there was one thing she knew about Rusty Beck, it was that anything that could be at all interpreted as a push or firm nudge would send him in the opposite direction. But as it suddenly loomed before them, she couldn't keep it to herself anymore._

 

_Her eyes were on his face now, hoping for a small sign of his own excitement._

 

_"Lucky?"_

 

_Sighing a little to herself, Sharon's face didn't betray her concern or frustration._

 

_"The last couple of days, I've been thinking about what it takes to add a child to a family in this day in age, and I got an extra one without even having to ask, and sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it."_

 

_She was still watching him carefully, trying to puzzle out exactly how he was feeling about all this. Somehow, though, it seemed that her words were agitating him more rather than soothing him._

 

_"What you did to deserve it…?" He said incredulously, turning toward her fully now. "Sharon, I have been mostly nothing but trouble since I first got here."_

 

_Mentally stepping back in surprise, she blurted, "You can't actually believe that."_

 

_But of course he did. And she could not talk him out of it, she knew. Sharon knew what it was not to see your own value or influence in someone else. She knew what it was to be hurt so many times that you begin to believe you have no value. But she also knew what it was to be on the other side of all of that, and wondered if he would get there soon too._

 

_"Alright, I'm not gonna try to explain it. Just trust me…It is a miracle to have you, and I am thankful for it every day."_

 

_Smiling reassuringly, she saw the genuine surprise on his face at her words. Sharon hoped that was enough right now._

 

_He stared up at her a little tearfully for a moment, and Sharon thought he might say something more._

 

_"What?"_

 

_But he just turned away and gathered up the paperwork in front of him, getting to his feet without looking at her._

 

_"Here it is."_

 

_Finally, their eyes met again as he quickly stuffed the forms into her hands. He held her gaze for a moment before beginning to speak again, quietly and very seriously._

 

_"Sharon, I promise you, one day I will give you a reason to be proud of me. I promise."_

 

_And he rushed out of the apartment like it was on fire. But she knew he heard her speak in his wake, "Oh my God, Rusty. I am already so proud of you."_

 

Perched on the end of his bed now, a single tear glistened on her cheek as she looked around the room, taking it in. She wiped it away impatiently and considered the walls around her, hoping but not truly believing that they held some answer to this personal dilemma.

 

Her eyes lit upon a book open on the desk. Dvoretsky's Endgame Manual. She'd given it to him for his first birthday with her, nearly two years ago now.

 

_"Sharon, what's THAT?"_

 

_They were sitting at the breakfast table. Well, he was. She was still negotiating with the kettle on the stove for a cup of tea. She glanced up at his words, looking over her shoulder. He was pointing at a neatly wrapped, gold-papered rectangle with a matching bow sitting on the bar. Picking up her cup of tea in one hand, she made her way over to him at the table, pausing briefly to scoop up the parcel in her other hand and placing it gently in front of him._

 

_"That," she whispered smilingly, "is for you."_

 

_He stared down at it confusedly, then back up at her._

 

_"But why?"_

 

_Sharon settled herself in the chair across from him, still smiling. "Well, unless I'm very much mistaken, today is your birthday." She placed the teacup on a saucer before her and gave him a little hurrying motion with her hands. "Go on, Rusty. Open it."_

 

_But he continued to look from her to the gift in front of him; Sharon could almost see the little cogs in his brain working it out, trying to see what the catch was. He had been with her for nearly a year now, but still couldn't quite get his mind around the idea that anything from Sharon did not come with strings attached._

 

_Finally, he spoke._

 

_"Y'know, I'm a little old for birthday presents, Sharon."_

 

_He was going to try to laugh it off, she could tell. Distance himself from any joy he might feel at the thought of a gift, so that when she snatched it away from him, he wouldn't be disappointed._

 

_He still didn't understand. She was not going to snatch it away from him._

 

_"I'm pretty sure I was, like, seven or something the last time I got one," he said casually. "You really didn't have to get me anything."_

 

_"It was my pleasure," Sharon said quietly. "Now go on and open it."_

 

_And at last, he did._

 

The cover was worn from use now, Sharon could see, the pages littered with multi-colored post-its with diagrams and notes.

 

She got to her feet, walking over to the desk and examining it more closely. One finger marking the page it had been open to, she leafed back to the inside front cover. It was the only page devoid of notes and diagrams. The inscription she had made was the only addition.

 

_For Rusty,_

 

_With the hope that I've finally found a book you might read without complaint._

 

_Just try to give me a fighting chance sometimes._

 

_Happy Birthday._

 

_Sharon_

 

She stepped back from the desk now, leaving the book as she had found it. A murder was waiting for her at the office, but before she could think about leaving, her eyes fell upon something else.

 

_"Oh my God, Sharon. It is SO COLD. What are we even doing?"_

 

_It was forty-five degrees outside. Rusty was curled up protectively inside his jacket, sulking; Provenza, whom she had enlisted for this particular outing, was wearing a similar expression of discomfort with his coat collar flipped up; and Sharon was finding it hard not to suppress a giggle._

 

_"Come on, Rusty. It is not that bad." She motioned for him to come join her next to a thick oak tree. He was wise beyond his years in so many ways, and just a small child in others; but it was nice to know that at least sometimes, he was just a teenaged boy._

 

_He sighed and moaned dramatically as he dragged himself over to her, and she tried to maintain a sympathetic face as he approached, holding in her giggles. But her mouth still twitched a little._

 

_Rusty's eyes narrowed. "God, Sharon. Are you LAUGHING? This is NOT funny. It's not my fault I wasn't born in, like, Iceland or whatever."_

 

_Snorting a little and covering her face, she let out a giggle before pulling herself back together. He had reached her now, by the tree, and she reached up to brush off and smooth the shoulders of his jacket, still giggling a little._

 

_"It's New England, honey. Hardly another continent."_

 

_"Might as well be," she heard Provenza grumble from about ten feet away. She caught Rusty's eye and they both smiled as she straightened his tie and brushed his hair unnecessarily out of his face lightly with her fingers. Satisfied that they were in order, she and Rusty both turned to face Provenza._

 

_"What is THAT?" Rusty was pointing to the camera in Provenza's hands._

 

_"It's a camera, young man. In my day, we actually printed our pictures. None of this online stupid-idiot-gram or whatever the hell it is."_

 

_Sharon and Rusty both started to roll their eyes. She put her arm around him, looking at Provenza and the camera, smiling._

 

_"Hey Lieutenant," Rusty called over as Provenza held up the camera to snap the photo, "you have some pictures of you and those dinosaurs I could look at later?"_

 

_And Sharon finally cracked, snorting and leaning into Rusty as they both laughed._

 

_Behind the camera, Provenza scowled._

 

_"You bring me out here to take a damn photo or to make idiot jokes?"_

 

_Eventually they pulled themselves together and got a few nice photos for Christmas that year, but Provenza refused to man the camera on any subsequent occasions._

 

Stopping now beside the door, she saw a disorganized pile of photos on a table, the top two from that day in the park. Provenza had only ever given her the prints of the two that she had used on the Christmas cards last year. Now she saw that he had taken far more than he let on, and Rusty had talked him into giving them up. There was one of her brushing the hair out of his eyes as he scoffed at her, another of her giggling as he shivered cross-armed beside her. The one that had caught her eye was on top. They were both laughing, her arm slung over his shoulder, leaning into him, her eyes nearly closed to accommodate her open-mouthed laugh. He was grinning broadly as well, but seemed to be laughing more at her reaction than the actual humor in the moment.

 

Blinking back tears again, she took a deep breath and headed back out into the hall. Sharon didn't know why he had those photos, but she certainly hoped he would share when he was ready.

 

* * *

 

 

When they arrived back home at the end of the week after all of that excitement, it was almost awkward, but in a strange comfortable way. He could not quite look at her; she could see him ducking his head and avoiding her gaze. For her part, she could not quite stop looking at him. It was making him uncomfortable, though, she could tell. She should stop.

 

They both took a seat on the couch without a word, as if they had decided to do so beforehand.

 

"Do you want to watch something?" Sharon picked up the remote and looked at him next to her inquiringly.

 

"Not really."

 

Sharon dropped the remote again, slipping her feet out of her shoes at the same time and flexing a little.

 

"This is a little weird, huh?" She reached beside her and pulled a pillow into her lap, squeezing it gently against her chest.

 

"No. I mean, yeah, it is…But—" He stopped, finally meeting her eyes again. "Like, it's a good weird, I think."

 

"It is," she agreed quietly. Setting the pillow aside, she continued, "I do have something for you, though."

 

Sharon wasn't sure she'd ever get over that look in his eye when she offered him something; that calculating gaze, wondering what exactly he would have to do to earn her generosity. At least this time it was only there for a fleeting moment before it passed.

 

"You didn't have to do that, Sharon."

 

She patted his knee lightly as she got to her feet and padded down the hall. "I know," she called back over her shoulder, "But it's my pleasure, honey."

 

Returning a moment later with a small black box, she saw Rusty removing a rather clumsily-wrapped rectangular package from his bag on the floor.

 

Feeling her gaze, he shrugged a little sheepishly at her.

 

"I got you something too."

 

Surprised, Sharon sank back down beside him, placing her own gift in his lap.

 

"Go on, open it," she said softly, watching him carefully.

 

He did, gently pushing the small box open to reveal the silver watch within.

 

Sharon looked at his face, not the box or his hands, watching with satisfaction as his expression went from anticipation to curiosity to wonder.

 

He pulled the watch out carefully, turning it over in his hands. It was not terribly fancy; that was not really Rusty's style. But it was well-made, attractive, and masculine without being uncharacteristic or chunky and overlarge. And on the back—

 

"'No matter what,'" Rusty read aloud, holding it close to his face to read the inscription. "'Love, S.'" He looked up at her, slightly teary himself. "Wow, Sharon. I…I don't know what to say. Thank you."

 

She smiled, also a little teary again. "I was happy to," she said softly, patting his face softly with one hand. Straightening slightly, Sharon looked over at the coffee table where her present was waiting.

 

"My turn, now," she said as she reached across him toward her gift.

 

"Yeah, no, Sharon." Rusty stopped her with a hand.

 

"What?"

 

Rusty sighed. "See, you got me this beautiful, expensive, sort of sentimental gift. In addition to, you know, adopting me this afternoon…" He trailed off for a moment. "Like, in the face of all that, what I got you is totally lame. And stupid. And you are not opening it." He pushed the parcel out of her reach.

 

Sighing quietly, Sharon leaned back again. "Rusty, I've told you a thousand times that I was happy to do it. All of it." She looked over at the present on the table just out of her reach. "And if you got it for me, I'm sure I will love it."

 

She held his gaze, essentially staring him down. After a minute or so, he relented and slid the gift over to her along the table. Grinning, Sharon pulled it into her lap and used her fingers to carefully separate the wrapping without ripping it.

 

Feeling, rather than hearing Rusty's frustrated groan and eye-roll, she glanced back at him with one of her signature quelling looks.

 

"What?"

 

"You know the paper is there to be ripped, right? It's not like you're going to hurt its feelings or something."

 

"Yes, I do know that. But I'd rather not run the risk."

 

Sharon finished freeing the gift from the paper at these last words, and let it fall into her lap.

 

It was a picture frame. Well, not exactly one; several frames of varying sizes all arranged within the confines of a large rectangle. And in each frame was a photo of her. There were five in all, gathered around a single photo of both Sharon and Rusty. The one she had happened upon in his room earlier, with the two of them leaning against each other in the shadow of a tree while they laughed. In the corners, there were other unfamiliar photos. There was one from Rusty's graduation party in the apartment, showing Sharon with a drink in her hand, smiling in conversation with Provenza and Andy. Another with Rusty, their heads pushed together at a chess tournament as they grinned up at the camera he held above them. A third one with Ricky during his visit a few months ago, backs to the camera, her arm around him as they stood on the balcony at the apartment. And one last one, of only Sharon, clearly unaware of the camera as she watched fireworks appreciatively, exploding over her head and lighting up her face. With the exception of one, she had not been aware she was being photographed at all.

 

Her fingers tracing the outline of each one, she let out a long withheld breath.

 

"Oh, Rusty." Her other arm darted out behind him, around his shoulder and pulled him in for a little hug. "It's wonderful. Thank you."

 

Rusty started talking nervously next to her.

 

"Well, like, I noticed that you have all these pictures but like, you aren't in any of them," he began, tugging on his sleeves a little. "And, like, they're all so serious. And Sharon, no offense, but—You're sort of a dork."

 

She smiled, still squeezing his shoulder gently.

 

"And I thought, maybe, like we could trade out one of those for something with you and Emily the next time she visits. Because there are like, noooo recent candid pictures of you together. And Buzz can help if we need. He's really good at fixing the size, and like making sure the coloring and stuff are right."

 

She nodded as he finally trailed off. "That sounds great, honey. I love it."

 

Sitting up straight again, she turned to him, withdrawing her arm.

 

"And Rusty, about this past week…" She swallowed, searching for the right words. "I know that this week was a little strange, with your mother and then this whole adoption situation and your work, but…" Breathing deeply, she continued. "You keep asking me what I get out of this arrangement. How I can feel lucky to have you here." She lifted the large picture frame from her lap and pushed it so that it was partly on her leg and partly on his, and pointed at the photo in the center. "This is what I get out of it. It's worth more than anything I could ever buy for you or for myself or any of my other kids." She squeezed his shoulder again, smiling a little tearfully. "You don't need to earn or prove anything to me, honey. You are worth, and deserve, so much more than I can possibly say."

 

Her arm resting on his shoulders now, she watched him consider her words, staring into his lap. After about a minute, he looked up, reaching across her legs for the remote.

 

"Okay. You wanna watch The Walking Dead?"

 


End file.
